Zara
by The Russet Divinity
Summary: She's always been my favorite character and I've often wondered about her past. Here is my take on her story.
1. a beginging

Do I love him? Yes, I love him. I've always loved him and hated him. It's  
because of him and his kind that I don't have a father. It's because of him  
that I was sent away from my family. It's because of him that I had to  
learn of my father's death from a dictated letter not even in my mother's  
own hand. But it's also because if him that I can read and write. It's  
because of him that I can stand alone and fight. It's because of him that I  
am free.  
Florian. He wasn't always called Florian, you know. He was Gregor  
Philippe Montmollin Esquire and it was that very name that sentenced me to  
my fate. My father was in the service of Baron Montmollin. As was my  
mother and I was born into this great house. I didn't see my father often  
even when I was young. He was needed in Marianstat or at the estate of La  
Jolie; while, Mother and I were shuffled off to the country house not far  
from Nierkeeping.  
It wasn't an unpleasant existence. I had the run of the house and I was on  
friendly terms with the scullery maid, so I never went hungry. I would  
often swipe a biscuit or two and steal up to Gregor's playroom where he  
would read to me 'Old Kasperl' and show me what the letters meant. I was  
also found to be handy with a needle and made myself useful by doing a bit  
of mending here and there.  
But then the day came when the Baroness decided that it wasn't proper and  
Gregor was getting quite too old for a playmate such as myself. I  
overheard her talking to my mother one day.  
"She has to go and that's final. She will be learning a trade and  
that will be far better off for her than if she were here. The  
dressmaker has been calling for an apprentice and Zara is just the age  
and has shown the talent. I have business in town on the morrow and I  
will see her there personally."  
Mother was crying and I rushed in to comfort her. We were told to say our  
goodbyes and to pack my things. I didn't know then if I would ever see or  
hear from her again. I did, once:  
"You'll never believe it," the dressmaker called as she returned from  
her errands. She had left me to clean up the shop at the end of a long  
day. "I stopped by the post office and there was a letter there for  
you." I ran up and tore it from her hand. I didn't know who could be  
writing me. It had been three years since the Baroness had left me  
there and I had been longing for news of my family all that time. I  
knew my mother had never learned to read or write so she had obviously  
found a professional letter writer to do it for her.  
"Would you like me to read it to you?" the dressmaker smiled.  
"I can read it myself," I snapped. It was true there wasn't much to  
read around the shop so I was out of practice but I still remembered  
everything Gregor had taught me. I unfolded the letter carefully. It  
was very brief and to the point. My father's heart had failed him.  
"He was always a good worker. I guess he was just working a bit to  
hard," the writer had written for my mother. She went on to say that  
she hadn't been with him when it happened but she had been allowed to  
go and visit his grave in the servants' plot at La Jolie. I didn't  
take any of this in, only the news that I would never see my father  
alive again. I let the letter slip out of my hand and the dressmaker  
picked it up off the floor to read for herself what had upset me so.  
"Oh my dear, I am sorry," she said. "But you didn't know him well  
did you? At least you don't know what you were missing." She tried to  
put her hand on my shoulder but I shrugged it away. I couldn't cry. I  
don't believe I ever learned how. I just vowed personal revenge on  
these people who had torn me away from my family and worked my father  
to death. 


	2. we meet again

I looked up from my needlework when I heard the bell over the door give its little chime. There I saw a young man, a servant to a wealthy family by the look of him, with his head bowed holding the door open wide. A woman I couldn't help but recognize swept past him without any regard what so ever. It was none other than the Baroness Montmollin. She looked quickly around the shop and seeing no one, because she hadn't noticed me and I would have liked to keep it that way, rapped her parasol several times on the counter. "Does anyone work here?" she demanded.  
  
The dressmaker thankfully appeared from the back room at that very moment. She curtsied politely and said, "How may I help you Madam?"  
  
I, on the other hand, tried to sink back into the woodwork. Why did she have to come here? I hated her with every fiber of my being.  
  
"I am throwing a ball," the Baroness announced, "in honor of my son who has completed his first two years studying law at the university."  
  
"Very good, Madam," the dressmaker answered as expected.  
  
"I will be requiring a new dress for myself of course and I was hoping that you could do something with the mockery of a suit that the so called tailor in Freyborg has put together for my son."  
  
It was then that I noticed him standing a few steps behind her. Gregor was older than I remembered him, of course. He had grown up into a fine looking young man. His light brown hair was cut in the sensible conservative style of his class. There was a spray of pockmarks covering his cheeks and his eyes were every bit as gray and I had remembered. I hated him too, everything about him.  
  
He sighed, looking bored.  
  
The dressmaker was asking the baroness about the style she preferred for her dress and then I heard her say, "My apprentice here will get right to work on your son's attire."  
  
I stood right up. My needlework slid to the floor in front of me. I hurried to pick it up and put it back on the chair I had been sitting in. Then remembering myself and gave an awkward curtsey.  
  
"She is very accomplished. I fear she will some day soon surpass me in ability," the dressmaker added with a smile.  
  
"Yes, well," was all the Baroness said. She didn't look very convinced.  
  
I felt my cheeks grow hot and saw that Gregor was smiling at me. It made me hate him even more. I didn't look at him as I said quietly, "If you'll just follow me there's a room in the back where you can change." I turned and led him to the back motioning to the area sectioned off with a curtain. I didn't look in his direction again until I was sure he had the curtain securely closed. Then, I looked around the rest of the room not quite sure what I was looking for until my eyes fell on the pair of scissors that the tinker had come to sharpen earlier that week. I crossed the room and picked them up. Yes, the very thing. I heard him moving behind the curtain and turned to face him. I was ready.  
  
I held the scissors there in my hand behind my back. I was going to kill him right then and there.  
  
Then he came out from behind the curtain and said, "Well, Zara, what do you think?"  
  
I was speechless. The scissors fell out of my hand and clattered to the floor. "You remember me?" I asked.  
  
"Well, of course. Why wouldn't I?" he laughed.  
  
"Your mother didn't."  
  
He laughed again, "She doesn't notice much of anything. Now, what do you think?" He turned around, arms outstretched to show me the suit he was wearing.  
  
"What's wrong with it?" I asked. I had studied mode and style and this particular suit of clothes was currently at the height of fashion. It fit him perfectly and I couldn't help but admit to myself that he looked very nice in it.  
  
He shrugged, "You see that's what I thought. Mother, however, thinks it a bit too modern, I'd imagine." He winked at me.  
  
I barely suppressed a giggle and then straitened my face again and said, "Well, what does she expect me to do to it?" I stepped forward for a closer look. I fingered the seams and the cuffs wondering how on earth I could improve on what the "so called" tailor had created.  
  
"I don't give a damn what she expects," he said so suddenly that I jumped back and looked at him with wide eyes.  
  
"I'm not going to her stupid party anyway," he continued, "I'd rather die than spend a moment with her pompous bourgeois friends."  
  
I stood back and crossed my arms over my chest waiting for him to go on.  
  
"Do you know what I've learned at the university these past two years?" he asked.  
  
I shrugged.  
  
"Nothing. Not one thing, except that the law, what they call the law, is no law at all. The only law is that all men are brothers . . ."  
  
I lost track of what he was saying. In the passion of his speech he had grabbed hold of my hand and all I knew was the feeling of my hand in his and how extraordinarily gray his eyes were. And then he was saying, "I'm leaving. I don't give a damn if they disown me."  
  
"Take me with you." The words escaped my lips before I had even realized what I was saying. I stepped back and clasped my hands over my mouth.  
  
He was silent for a moment observing me. Then he simply said, "Yes. Yes, I think you can go with me." 


	3. shooting lesson

Author's note: I realize that there's a lot of stuff I have to explain between the last chapter and this one but this is what was in my head to write today and I wanted to go ahead and post it.  
  
We dismounted from our horses in front of the big timber house. Rina was complaining about being saddle sore. I told Florian she couldn't handle riding that long. But then she looked up at the house and said in awe, "What is this place?"  
  
"It's one of the Montmollin estates," I said quietly, hanging back while the others walked towards the house.  
  
"Looks deserted," said Justin.  
  
"It is," Florian answered him, "word is that they lost a son, the Baroness ran off to live with a cousin in Regia and the Baron won't set a foot on the place. So, my children, it's all ours."  
  
"And just why are we here again?" Stock asked. He looked like he was feeling a little saddle sore himself but he didn't mention it.  
  
"Something Justin said the other day," said Florian. "The goddesses need to learn to defend themselves and I thought this might be the perfect place for a shooting lesson." They all filed into the house but I couldn't move. I crossed my arms over my chest protectively. That was the house I grew up in. The house I was sent away from. There were too many memories; too much pain.  
  
Florian stuck his head out the door and called to me, "Are you coming in?"  
  
I shook my head no. "I can't," I barely whispered.  
  
"Come on," he assured me, "It'll be fine. Trust me." He took my hand and pulled me inside.  
  
The house was very much as I had remembered it. Except that the richly upholstered furniture had been covered with sheets so the rooms looked as if they were full of ghosts and that's exactly what it felt like.  
  
"I found some rifles we can use," we heard Justin call from the other room. We followed his voice to see that he had pried open an old mahogany gun case. Several hunting rifles were mounted in the case along with a small box.  
  
While the others were inspecting the rifles I picked up the box and opened it carefully. It was lined with green velvet and contained two ornate pistols along with the necessary instruments for cleaning and loading them.  
  
"We'll use these too," Justin grabbed the box from my hands slamming the lid on my finger.  
  
"Ouch," I yelled.  
  
He smirked at me, "First thing you've got to learn is to be careful around the guns."  
  
Ooo, I hated him so much.  
  
Florian laughed and gave both Justin and I a pat on the back then he turned to Justin, "I'm going to find some targets. Why don't you take everyone outside and get them started loading?" Florian disappeared towards what only he and I knew was the wine cellar.  
  
I reluctantly followed behind the others to the yard.  
  
Justin got right to work explaining how to load the charge and tamp it down. I wasn't paying much attention. There was too much to look at; too much to remember.  
  
"Alright, you try it then," Justin surprised me by thrusting the rifle into my hand.  
  
"Fine," I said. I took the gun and although I was a bit slow I took my time and loaded it perfectly, exactly as he had done. I handed it back to him giving him the same smirk he had given me earlier.  
  
"That's it Zara," Stock cheered me on sitting comfortably now with his back against a tree.  
  
"Well done indeed," said Florian now coming from the house with his arms full of bottles.  
  
I gloried in his praise watching him as he walked about 20 yards away and set a few of the bottles up on a fence. I looked smugly toward Justin but he was already focused on Rina's attempt to load. She wasn't doing nearly as well as I had.  
  
When he came back, Florian also watched Rina. When she had finally succeeded in loading the rifle, he and Justin both attempted to show her how to hold it and explained that there would be a kick back when she pulled the trigger. Florian actually put his arm around her to show her how to brace her shoulder.  
  
I was livid. I picked up one of the other rifles; the one I had just loaded; aimed in the direction of the bottles and pulled the trigger.  
  
The middle bottle exploded spraying glass and wine in every direction.  
  
"I think I've got it," I said.  
  
Rina, in shock, had also pulled her trigger but her shot went high taking out a tree branch and showering Stock with leaves.  
  
I dropped the rifle I was holding and stomped off toward the house. I didn't look back to see their reactions. I stopped short of the big house and turned toward one of the smaller buildings. It was the servants' quarters. I found my way easily to the room I had shared with my mother. The small cot on which I had slept had long since been removed but the bed that had been my mother's was still there. The mattress ticking was old and worn. There were holes were the stuffing was spilling out.  
  
I sat on the bed and it sagged. I room was small and depressing. I didn't remember it being this small.  
  
"Are you all right?" Florian asked coming into the room.  
  
I hadn't heard his footsteps and he surprised me. "I'm fine," I said.  
  
"Is it hard for you coming back here?"  
  
I shrugged.  
  
He sat down next to me. "I don't believe I've ever been in here."  
  
"Why should you be? You were too good for this place."  
  
"No," he countered, "I was never too good. Just . . . distracted I guess."  
  
I looked at him.  
  
"That's all any of this is, isn't it?" he asked.  
  
I didn't understand what he meant and he tried to explain.  
  
"The aristocracy doesn't want to see the world the way it really is. So, they surround themselves with fine things. That's why you were sent away, you know?" He stopped for a minute and looked intently at me. "You reminded them of the real world."  
  
I looked away uncomfortable at his gaze. "Well, what do I remind you of?" I asked nonchalantly.  
  
"Oh, you remind me of the real world also."  
  
I wasn't sure if that was a complement or not.  
  
He continued, "You remind me of a world that is just and free where everyone is equal and everyone has a say."  
  
I felt my face get warm. "That world doesn't exist," I told him.  
  
"It will, if we work for it."  
  
I hoped he was right.  
  
Florian stood and pulled me up to stand also, "Right now working means learning how to shoot."  
  
"Alright." I smiled and followed him back out to the yard. 


	4. goodbye for a while

Author note: I haven't posted anything in ages but that doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about it. A friend of mine and I sat down and outlined most of what I want to write. And I finally wrote something today. This isn't it. This is something I wrote a while ago that you need to understand what I wrote today. And even this I will need to set up for you. This scene takes place as Justin and Florian are leaving the farm after the Nierkeeping event. And what you must know is this. Zara did not want to be parted from Florian in fact she begged him not to leave her. He kisses her she asks why he had never done that before in all the time they had been together. He says it was because she was so young when he took her from the dressmakers and he didn't want to take advantage of her. She says something like, "I'm not a child now." And yada yada yada things happen.

Now something else you must know that I haven't gotten around to writing yet is that in all that time that he was "not taking advantage" of her he was paying a lot of attention to Justin mostly because Justin had just lost his father and needed an older male role model. But Zara mixes it all round and thinks that there's something more going on there. Anywho she confronts Justin about it and at first he's angry and then he thinks it's hilarious and teases her about it incessantly.

I think that's all you need to know. Ok here you go and I promise to someday write all that stuff I just told you about. Oh yeah, and I switched to third person.

* * *

"Just be careful; both of you. Don't do anything stupid," this last comment was directed at Justin and accompanied by a dirty look.

"Hey," he answered back, laughing, "I'm just glad it was the doc and not you who sewed me up. I've seen your stitch work. You'd have had me looking like a monster."

"Oh," she growled, "You are a monster." She slapped his arm.

He feigned painful agony and then he bent down and whispered in her ear, "I guess you're satisfied now that ol' Florian's not queer."

Her face burned. "How did you . . ."

"You didn't really think I was unconscious all that time did you?"

She tried to hit him again but he was already upright in the saddle and had urged his mount forward.

"What was that all about?" Florian asked her.

"I'm sure he'll tell you," She was still watching Justin with a scowl on her face.

Florian put a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to look at him. "I'm not sorry for anything that I've done," he said to her.

She took his meaning and begged once more, "Please don't leave me."

"You know I have to." He caressed her face with his fingers, "but I'll send for you soon."

"Be careful," she said again willing herself not to cry.

"I will." He kissed the tips of his fingers and laid his hand again on her forehead.

She closed her eyes and didn't open them again until he and Justin had ridden well out of the yard.

"Are those tears, my dear Zara?" Stock asked as he came up to stand beside her.

"I'm not crying," she answered defensively, "I never cry. I just . . . had something in my eye."

Stock chuckled. "Now who's the poet?"

"Oh, shut up." She turned on her heal back towards the farmhouse furiously wiping away the non-existent tears with the back of her hand.


	5. a letter

Author note: ok as promised here's what I wrote today. It takes place in Freyborg about a month after everyone goes their separate ways. As you might remember from Westmark Theo was supposed to be in charge of the press and Zara was supposed to be his devil but he had a little trouble along the way and the job was left to her. And there are other things she'd rather be doing.

Zara stopped the treadle of the sewing machine and carefully pulled the fabric out from under the needle. She cut the thread with her teeth and looked at her handiwork. She had to smile. This is what she was supposed to be doing. She was a dressmaker by trade and sewing always seemed to relax her somehow. Maybe it was the control she had over the fabric or the way it felt to see the garment come together.

"Zara, got somethin' for you," Stock called from the other room. The smile dropped from her face.

"Coming," she said, laying the skirt tenderly to the side. She'd get back to it later. It seemed her sewing had gotten pushed back more and more lately.

"What is it?" whe asked entering the room where they had constructed the printing press but she almost backed out again, her stomach churning.

"Soup and my latest inspiration," Stock said happily.

Zara pushed the soup back a few inches on the table as if moving it would alleviate the smell that had made her feel so sick. She had hardly been able to keep anything down since they left Nierkeeping. She knew it was because she was worried about Florian. She hoped that the others hadn't noticed how his absence affected her. But nothing got by Stock. She looked up at him and tried to smile (it looked to him like more of a grimace) and picked up his manuscript.

"More poems?" She asked, looking it over.

"How could I ever cease to write when in the presence of such a lovely muse." He kissed her on the forehead.

She rolled her eyes and pulled out a tray of letters. Stock swept out of the room and Zara went to work setting the type.

This was not supposed to be her job. She was only supposed to be the printers devil but Theo had never shown up. He and his friends who they had risked their lives to get out of prison in Neirkeeping had gone missing some where along the way.

She was so angry that she was now slamming the letters into the tray with no reguard for spelling. She had always known that Theo was an idiot. It was his fault that they had gone to Nierkeeping in the first place; his fault that they had risked their lives and Justin had nearly been killed. Not that she cared bout Justin he was an idiot, too. But it was Theo's fault that Florian had to go into hiding; his fault that they had to be parted for over a month now.

Zara looked down at the tray of type. Her tears were pooling in the little "o"s, and "a"s, and "d"s, and "b"s.

"What has come over me." She wiped her eyes and the letters with a cloth. And not a moment to soon, just then Keller rushed in.

"News," he said loudly, thrusting a stack of papers at her, knocking the tray of type to the floor and scattering the letters everywhere.

"Must you make more work for me and ruin everything I've already accomplished?" Zara screamed at him, exasperated. She dropped to her knees and began to pick up the letters glancing at the papers he'd brought in; probably just more of his satirical stories.

"I'm sorry, Zara," He said and pulled her up by her elbow. "But I have news and I thought you should be the first to know." He handed her a letter.

Zara hardly noticed that Stock and Rina and run into the room wondering what was the matter. The letter was from Florian. All was well. The Chief Minister had been exiled and Florian was pardoned.

She read on, "However, my children, I fear we must be parted for a while longer. There is work for me to do here in Marianstat and you all have the work I left for you to do there. . . ."

Zara couldn't read anymore she ran out of the room and out the back door where she wretched onto the grass. Stock was not far behind her. He patted her back and handed her a handkerchief.

"Is everything alright?" he asked after giving her a chance to wiper her face.

She nodded and handed him the letter not trusting her voice.

"Well, this is a reason to celebrate," he said after skimming it.

"What is it? Is Justin okay?' cried Rina.

"Cabbarus is gone and Florian is free," Stock told the others, kindly shielding Zara from their view as she collected herself.

"Let's all go to Jellinek's for a drink," Keller exclaimed and he and Rina started off.

But Stock turned to Zara, "Come on, let's get you something to eat. You're wasting away and it'll make you feel better."

She smiled her thanks up at him and allowed him to lead her away.


End file.
